


Silver Clouds With Grey Lining

by wirewrappedlily



Series: It's Misery [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Other, Slow Build, Stiles has been recruited out of senior year, he's been working for two or three years, small time skip, still leading up to the slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2014-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 14:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wirewrappedlily/pseuds/wirewrappedlily
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He made you leave!" Scott snapped, and Stiles knew they'd changed tracts now. "You wouldn't have gone off and--" </p><p>"And gotten a job which I love that fits with me saving your ass. What did you want from me, Scott? To never leave you?" </p><p>"Yes!" </p><p>"You left me first!" Stiles stormed, hiding the small groan Derek let out as he came to under Lydia's capable hands. "I had to find a new niche, so I did that, you dipshit." </p><p>Scott snarled at him, "I was supposed to always have you!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Time skip, Scott losing his mind, and depressed Derek. You cannot tell me it wouldn't happen.

The feel of the gun in his palm was second-nature now, as was the weight at his hip of a badge. Being recruited out of his senior year of high school hadn't really changed much of Stiles's life plans. He was working with Peter Bishop as the magic to his science, and Olivia had trained him herself. Lydia was working freelance with them, much in the way Peter had been meant to when he was first brought in on Fringe division. 

When Stiles didn't like, what Stiles hated was second-nature now, was the nagging feeling in his gut as he walked towards Derek's front door, about to knock even though his instincts were screaming that Derek was in trouble. 

Stiles unholstered his gun, and Lydia nodded as she took her place on the other side of the door. Stiles glanced down at her shoes--steel-reinforced stilettos, she'd be perfectly fine to kick the door down--and knocked, calling out and listening with the attuned ear of a federal officer that wasn't usually welcome in the doors he was knocking on. "Derek? It's Stiles." The sounds of a scuffle got Lydia the nod, and she had the door open almost before Stiles had finished the movement, Stiles going in gun-first, taking in the scene. Derek was left in a puddle of his own blood, Scott standing over him, panting, his knuckles smeared with Derek's blood and his eyes glowing a hazy red. Stiles trained the gun at his best friend with a steady hand that would have made Liv proud. "Step away from him, Scott." 

"The bastard deserved--" 

"As a federal agent, Scott, I am ordering you to _step away from him_." 

"Allison's gone crazy and it's his fault!" 

"Really? His fault, and not the long-standing history of mental illness prominent in both sides of her family?" Stiles asked scathingly, stepping forwards with a measured step and watching as Scott fell back, inching away from Derek now. Lydia dropped her gun, going to Derek to check him over, "What, _pray tell_ , did he do? What has caused this recent bout of mania in your darling wife that could possibly have been his fault?" 

"He made you leave!" Scott snapped, and Stiles knew they'd changed tracts now. "You wouldn't have gone off and--" 

"And gotten a job which I love that fits with me saving your ass. What did you want from me, Scott? To never leave you?" 

"Yes!" 

"You left me first!" Stiles stormed, hiding the small groan Derek let out as he came to under Lydia's capable hands. "I had to find a new niche, so I did that, you dipshit." 

Scott snarled at him, "I was supposed to always have you!" 

"You didn't want me! Not with Isaac and becoming a fucking Alpha! I had to make sure that we survived that clusterfuck, and then when it was all said and done, it wasn't me you were waiting for at the end. It wasn't me you were listening to in the middle! You're like a brick tied to me that's holding me down now! You're not my only reason to be in this world anymore, and you're not the only reason I fight, or the only reason I'm still here." Stiles yelled. Scott flinched back from him, stricken thoroughly. "You have no right to accuse him of driving me away, because he never did. I have half a mind to arrest you for assault, Scott, leave." 

Scott stumbled over himself to the door, shooting one last, kicked-puppy look over his shoulder, "Allison...she's been arrested for vehicular manslaughter." Derek groaned, Lydia helping him to sit up. Derek spat teeth out into his hand, and Stiles hissed, snatching up the kleenex and crouching on the other side of him, looking over his injuries. "She killed a cop that pulled her over for a speeding ticket." 

"Okay, so she has lost her mind." Lydia commented tightly, shaking her head. 

"You owe me fifty bucks or body shots." 

Lydia paused, thinking it over, "Body shots. You're fun to watch in a nightclub." 

"Gay bar?" 

"Of course!" Lydia laughed. "Couch. One, two...three!" Stiles and Lydia hefted Derek up onto the couch, Stiles snagging his shirt and peeling it off as Lydia grabbed a rag and wiped up the blood before he stained the upholstery. "So, we were just coming around to see how you were doing without Stiles, but this answers that question." 

"I'm _fine_ , I knew fighting Scott back would be a bad idea with how angry he was. He'd only shift, and then I'd have to worry about anyone who'd see him."

"Yeah, okay." Stiles patted his knee, "You do know best. But is Scott a threat?" 

"No. More an annoyance, now. There's nothing for him to threaten, my pack's gone now." Derek told them simply. Stiles and Lydia shared a look, Stiles nodding once as he drew out his cell phone. 

"Hello, Agent Broyles? It's Stilinski. I'm in Beacon Hills, sir, and there's a potential situation. Yes, sir. No, another wolf. The one married to Allison Argent. Yes, Scott. Well, he thinks he is. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I will." Stiles hung up, "Looks like I'm sticking close for the foreseeable future." 

"We'll have Thanksgiving dinner here, then." Lydia surmised. "Etta, Peter, and Liv are going to be at your dad's house, right?" 

"Yeah. Looks like I'm stealing your couch, big guy." Stiles informed Derek, cheeky to the max and sure that Derek wouldn't say no. Derek almost did, but Lydia shot him a look that had him feeling kicked in the ribs. "I don't snore. Or drool, unless I've had a few. I talk, but that's nothing new, and you never seem to hear me anyway." 

"I hear you. Whether or not I listen is the real clincher." Derek muttered snottily. 

Stiles laughed, shaking his head, "He's grown a sense of humour! It's a Thanksgiving miracle!" 

"Nah, he's always had a sense of humour, it's just so dry as to be space jerky." Lydia told them primly. She slid over the arm of Stiles's seat to sit in his lap, grinning at him, "Now: Derek, you need new clothes, Stiles is taking us to a fancy restaurant." 

"Your paycheck is better than mine!" 

"Fine. But you're driving." 

"Like that is a hardship. Last time I let you drive I had three broken ribs, a concussion, internal bleeding, a hernia, and a dislocated shoulder." 

"That was _before_ you got into the car with me!" 

"What the hell happened?!" Derek demanding, cutting a swathe through the bickering. 

"You: non-bloodstained pants. Go now." Lydia ordered. "Stiles was in an explosion. He saved my life, actually. And then we saved the person who was actually threatened by a telepathic, stalking serial killer." 

"We didn't know he was telepathic. It was a real headache of a case." Stiles elbowed Lydia in the ribs, waggling his brows at the horrible line, and Lydia smacked him lightly upside the head. 

Derek stumbled out of his bedroom, looking dishevelled and thrown-together, and utterly gorgeous considering he'd just been bleeding on his hardwood. Stiles groaned as he stood up, following the bouncing Lydia to the door, "I don’t know why you're staying." Derek told him quietly. 

"Because Scott's a threat, and I won't see you or anyone else in this town get hurt because he's losing control of his life." Stiles told him. "Now, if you don't want me: too fucking bad, I'm staying anyway."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We just changed the entire face of medicine." He breathed, laughing gustily. 
> 
> "You and Lyds have to call me Captain America for the next three months. I won the bet." Stiles breathed hazily.

Derek hauled the twisted wreck of a vehicle apart, careless about being seen when the hiss of gas and whisper of flame were so close together and Stiles was trapped in the car he was shredding to scattered pieces. Stiles was choking up mouthfuls of blood, grunting in pain as Derek wrenched the car apart around him, only careful not to hurt him. "So driving into a minotaur? Not the smartest plan I've ever had." Stiles laughed bloodily, reaching out a pale, blood-stained hand like he was asking for a hand up. 

"You're not standing, you idiot." Derek snapped, utterly cross. 

"This'll go faster--" 

"I don't care!" Derek snarled, his eyes flashing red and his fangs threatening to extend. Derek sliced through Stiles's seatbelt with a flick of claw, bending into the car and lifting Stiles out into his arms, "You're going to be okay." Derek breathed as Stiles bit down on a noise of pain. 

"Yeah, I know that!" Stiles huffed. "I'll be even better if you call Pete and not an ambulance." 

"What?!" Derek demanded, eyes blazing. 

"Peter Bishop, my cousin? He and I have been developing a healing serum that'll take care of me. I'll be the final test." 

"That doesn--"

"Derek, either you call him or I call him, but I'd rather not have to pick your pocket: I'm trying to protect whatever semblance of modesty you have, those jeans are that tight." Huffing in disbelief, Derek set Stiles on the grassy shoulder of the road carefully, far enough away from the wreck that when it caught and exploded, they weren't in danger. Derek handed the phone to Stiles, realizing he didn't know the number. Stiles grinned at him around a bloody mouth, and it was just like the night they'd defeated the Alpha pack--Stiles's prom, with Lydia as his date, and the two of them working together in ways Derek never could with anyone, friend, family, or lover. "Hey, Peter, I've gotten into an accident, I wanna test our little experiment. Minotaur. No, I hit him with my car. Yeah, not the smartest move, but he's dead, and I'm not, so points for Gryffindor. Yeah, we're on the Preserve road. Can't miss us. No, Liv doesn't need to come, I've got Derek here and a gun of my own." Stiles handed Derek back the phone with a shaking hand, his eyelids heavy. "I need you to keep me awake. Lot to ask, and you've already done so much, but could you talk to me?" 

"You're infuriating." Derek stormed. "I can't believe you did something like this, with no backup and no one here to keep you _alive_." 

"Where were you?" Stiles murmured groggily. Derek knew he was bleeding internally; bleeding from the compound fracture in his leg. 

"I was at the house." Derek snapped reflexively. "You should have called me when you figured out what it was." 

"I didn't know until it appeared in front of the car." Stiles argued. 

"What were you even doing out here?!" 

"Scott texted…"

Derek's eyes widened, his face paling, "What if it wasn't Scott?" 

"Yeah, I thought of that around the time the Minotaur realized I was going to charge it." 

"You idiot." Derek breathed, "Keep your eyes open, Stiles, or so help me, I'll figure out a way to bring you back from the dead." 

"You're not very good at the talking-to-keep-me-alive thing." Stiles commented hazily. 

"You can't die on me, Stiles. Your father would kill me. Then Lydia would bring me back only to kill me again. You should've known it was a bad idea to have come back, why did you come back? This place has only hurt you, and you were gone...you were gone for three years, Stiles. You were out. Anywhere is safer than here. I'm such a fuck-up of an Alpha that I can't keep this place safe--" 

"Not a fuck-up. 'Cause my dad's supposed to keep this place safe, too, but he can't and that's not his fault, so it's also not yours." 

"I think you've lost too much blood." Derek's voice was tight, the attempt at humour warbling with fear and grief that pierced through Stiles's fog. "I was safe with you gone. I couldn't lose you if you weren't mine to lose." Derek choked out, "Stiles, you have to stay awake with me. You need to prove me wrong about that serum you cooked up with your cousin. You're the best at proving me wrong, Stiles, stay awake. You can't be done making my life hell yet." 

"Derek, when I make your life hell, you'll be well aware I'm making your life hell." Stiles grumbled as Peter Bishop's black SUV came to a screeching halt, rocking on its chassis as Bishop leapt out of the car and ran to them full-bore. 

"He should not have survived that!" Bishop breathed, taking in the smouldering ruins of the car. 

"Most of that was sourwolf trying to get me free." Stiles told him too faintly for Bishop to be able to hear: almost too faintly for Derek to be able to hear. 

Bishop knelt beside Stiles, taking a vial of rose-coloured liquid that looked like something that would come from Hogwarts, unstoppering it and putting the vial to Stiles's lips, his pinched features telling Derek that he was praying this would work, too. "Thank you for getting him out, Derek." Bishop whispered. 

It didn't take long before Stiles groaning so loud it was bordering on a yell, tensing in Derek's hold on him and trying to thrash, something he would've succeeded in doing if Derek hadn't been holding onto him. Stiles's neck arched back his throat working as he seemed to choke on nothing at all. His eyes rolled back in his skull, bones snapping and tendons popping, his skin going deathly grey before all at once he was limp in Derek's arms. Bishop reached for his throat, checking a faint pulse Derek could already hear, looking over the skin visible in the shreds of Stiles's clothing: whole and smooth once more. Derek couldn't hear the undertoned running of internal bleeding like a faucet turned on in another part of an old house, and Stiles's ribs felt whole under his hands. He might've fainted in relief. 

Bishop looked about the same, giving a very similar little grin that Stiles gave when he was being coyly evil. "We just changed the entire face of medicine." He breathed, laughing gustily. 

"You and Lyds have to call me Captain America for the next three months. I won the bet." Stiles breathed hazily. 

Derek looked at Bishop, nodding to the van, "Is there enough back seat to lie him down in?" 

"Got the bench, not the individuals. I'll move Etta's car seat, and we should be good. You okay to carry him?" 

"Of course. And I'll be coming with you?" 

"I'd appreciate it. Little girls I can manage, Liv I can carry on a very good day, but Stiles? Not happening. He's six feet of unwieldy sprawl." 

Derek chuckled silently, maneovering to pick Stiles up into his arms. Stiles laid his head on Derek's shoulder, sighing quietly, "I missed you, sourwolf. Glad I came back." 

"'M glad you came back, too, Stiles. I can't trust you to take care of yourself completely unsupervised." Derek told him; fondness seeping into his voice to replace the words he really wanted to say instead of the ones he'd let out.

_I'm glad you came back, too, Stiles; I missed you more than you know._


	3. Chapter 3

"So, let me get this straight: Allison summoned a minotaur to take me out?" Stiles tested, finding that it fit oddly on his tongue. 

"She didn't summon him so much as she baited him." Deaton told him on a huff, "Allison has lost face as a hunter. She's married to a wolf--and it's not unheard of for a pack to be at the disposal of a hunter, but Scott--" 

"Hasn't really been being disposed." Stiles interpreted, nodding. "So she wants face back. How's she going to do that by killing a fed?" 

"You aren't just any fed." Derek supplied in a gruff voice. "And you've made your own name in the world of monster hunting." 

"Told you that red hoodie would be a good signature to keep." Bishop laughed. 

"Oh, please, you just didn't want me to out-dress you." 

"You'd be the Ryan to my Espo if I let you." Bishop agreed amicably, shrugging with a grin. 

"Instead I'm Espo and you're Castle." 

"Boys, if you could focus?" Liv and Lydia cut in in unison. 

"We never should have let them meet." Bishop commented. 

"I know, we never get to have any fun anymore." Stiles agreed flippantly, both of them grinning like little devils. 

"Well, she fucked up." Bishop put in, "If she wanted to take out the minotaur that took out Stiles, she would have fucked it up. Derek would have taken the minotaur out before she could ever get to it." 

"How did you know I was damseling, by the way? You didn't have your car, and that stretch of the Preserve was deserted. And you weren't sweating, so telling me that you were running is not going to fly, grumpy cat." 

"I don't sweat as much as you do." Derek spat. 

"No, you sweat about a billion times more than I do. I still wonder how you manage to keep hydrated." 

"Back to your corners, gents, before Derek tears your throat out with his teeth." Bishop intervened. "We need to come up with a way to get Allison out of the equation. There's way too many variables here for comfort. For now, though, you should let Etta curl up with you." 

"Etta doesn't need to get any sense of what happened," Stiles shook his head, "she doesn't need this from her favourite uncle." Stiles grunted at inching off the table he'd sat on, Derek scooping his arm over his shoulders to support him down in an instant, his arm around Stiles's waist taking his weight and setting him on the ground. "Etta doesn't need to heal me in any way shape or form. Sour wolf, think you can take my pain?" Stiles asked, turning his head to look at Derek too close. Derek's hand closed around Stiles's wrist immediately, and Stiles rocked in his grip for a moment before shaking himself back together. "That was like that time we had absinthe, Pete." 

"Oooh, fun!" Bishop grinned evilly. 

"Never again." Olivia and Lydia both shook their heads, smiling slightly. 

"It's like I'm married, only celibate." Stiles whined at Bishop. 

Bishop snorted, "Please. Sex after marriage is as improbable as life after death." Bishop flinched and snickered as Olivia wound up and swung at him. 

Stiles chuckled, unsteady on his feet. Derek propped him up with a spread hand still on his chest. Lifting his chin, Stiles looked up at him with a grateful twitch of a smile, "Okay, I lied: I totally need cuddles and a nap." Stiles slurred, yawning, "Where is my little sweetheart?" 

Olivia stood, opening the door and calling softly, a smile on her face. Etta dashed past her legs, leaping into Stiles's arms with a pinched, worried face, burying her nose in Stiles's chest and gripping his collar with white knuckles. Stiles bent his head, kissing her hair with a tenderness that was almost painful to see. 

"I'm okay, sweetheart." He whispered, bouncing slightly, "Just need a little nap." 

"You got hurt." Etta insisted, voice muffled in Stiles's shirt. 

"I get hurt a lot, baby; I'm accident prone." Stiles joked, voice light. 

Etta snorted at him, looking up to glare at him. Stiles turned his head to Derek with a look and pursed lips. Olivia was laughing softly, Lydia sticking her tongue out at her with a wink. 

"It's like I never left you, sourwolf." Stiles teased, walking past him and walking over to a couch, Etta held in his arms on his lap as they both quietly settled in, Stiles's eyes lulling closed and his head tipping backwards. 

Olivia's bright eyes looked up at Derek with a piercing kind of friendliness, jerking her head towards the door. He dipped his head in agreement, walking out with her. "He misses you, you know." She began when they were well out the door, walking together on their way outside, "I can tell because he never talks about you when he talks about Beacon Hills. Stiles talks about everything but what matters, Derek; it's his raison d'etre. But I think you know that you matter more than most things Stiles never talks about. There are times Lydia wants to murder him he gets so low wanting to be...close again." Olivia pulled her hair back over her shoulders, sighing softly. 

Derek was silent for a long, long time, before taking a breath, "When Stiles and I first met, he was too young."

"And now what, Derek? He's more man than most of the forty-year-olds I know. My father-in-law a prime example. My husband another." Olivia smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling, "Stiles isn't getting any younger, and neither are you. You really should be happy." 

Derek looked at her in silence; unable to speak even though he wished he finally could. 

 

"You do know how to be happy, Derek, you just don't know how to let it be. Don't fight it, Derek; let Stiles seep in the cracks and chase out the shadows." Olivia advised, stopping and turning to him, "Stiles is a strange creature, Derek. You know that better than most. But you've lost the thread of just how strange and incredible he can be." With a twinkle of mischief, Olivia bounced and backtracked, walking to the door. "Lydia's already approved; hell, I would, too. Not that it matters."


	4. Seven Devils

The next time Derek got to see Stiles, he was facing off against Olivia in the spar ring, his hands wrapped up in gauze and his white shirt clinging to his shoulders, the sweats on his hips just barely keeping themselves afloat as Stiles dodged Olivia's attack, sweeping up and around, using his legs to take her down, twisting and pinning her easily.

"This is hateful, Liv! You're not allowed to get this old, it means I'm getting old." Bishop was laughing, playing with Etta on the floor in the corner. 

"Shut your mouth, Peter, or help me out!" 

"Derek, I volunteer you." Bishop quipped. He looked up at Derek for a long while, "Etta...I think Derek may need a hug." 

Etta tottered over to him, attaching herself to his leg when he didn't bend to hug her properly. "Wha's wrong, Mr. Derek?" Etta asked in her little voice, looking up at him from where she was wrapped around his knee. 

"You okay, Derek?" Stiles asked, slipping out from around Olivia being pinned, standing up and walking over to him, scooping Etta up when she finally let Derek go. "Derek?" 

He reached out towards him, and the next thing Derek knew, he was being wrapped in Stiles's arms, Etta's little grip wrapping him up as much as she could from her perch on Stiles's hip. "I-I think...Kate Argent's back." 

Stiles took an abrupt step back before looking over to Olivia, "Liv; Pete, take Etta. Derek and I need to talk." He handed Etta to Bishop, and took Derek's arm in his hand the moment they were free, pulling him along. "Derek, sit down." Stiles reached up, resting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him gently down, "Look at me."

Derek looked up at him, blinking up at him, and the innocence in his face made Stiles's heart clench. "Stiles--" 

"Shh," Stiles threw himself down, kneeling in front of him and taking his hands, pressing his hands into his pulse, "breathe, Derek, we're together; and when we're together, we're unstoppable. I need you to breathe for me. Calm yourself down, because I need to talk to you, and I need to get the information I need in just one go."

Derek bit out a low, brutal growl, and Stiles hushed him, pulling him down as he knelt up, hugging him around the neck, tucking his face into the curve of his neck. Derek's hands ended up on his ribs, clinging desperately. His fingers trembled with the urge to shift into the sharp claws of the wolf, and Stiles hummed, petting his head, "I...I don't--" 

"Derek," Stiles whispered, voice desperate, "Derek, just hang on to me. Shift as much as you need to, just hold on to me." 

Derek snarled, "I...can't." 

"Yes, you can. You can hang onto me and let yourself go. I trust you. I know you. Breathe." 

Stiles didn't smell of fear, he smelt of worry and sorrow. "I can't." 

Derek was struggling to breathe, but Stiles just tugged at him, pulling him from the seat and into the curve of Stiles's body, Stiles's hands on his back and in his hair. "You and me, Derek. We can get through this. The Argents have nothing on us, and you know it."

Stiles breathed, bringing Derek down with him, pulling his head onto Stiles's chest, his ear pressed against his heart, laying them down on the floor. 

Derek didn't know how, but between Stiles's arms and his hands running through Derek's hair, Derek found his eyes fluttering closed, completely lax. "That's it, Der. You and me...you and me are gonna be okay." 

"Stiles, I need you safe."

"I am safe, Derek. We're the safest when we're together." Stiles's thumb traced over the corner of his mouth, and Derek wanted nothing more than to fall into him and never let go. "Kate will never hurt you again. I will never let her get close."

"I can't lose you, Stiles. Of everyone, I can't lose you. Please." 

"You won't." Stiles promised, tilting his head back with a gentle touch to his chin, kissing his cheek softly. "I won't let you go, Derek. I care about you; and I will never let anything get through me and hurt you." 

Derek growled low in his chest, "I'm in love with you. I can't lose you." 

Stiles stilled entirely, and Derek cringed before Stiles was suddenly flipping them, on his hands and knees above him, staring down with his gorgeous eyes, "Derek, we are going to discuss this later. When you're not scared and when we can both think clearly, because I need your head on completely straight when we talk about this; I will not put up with a broken heart because you change your--" 

Stiles cut off as Derek reared up, kissing Stiles within an inch of his life, pulling him back down until they were pressed so closely together that Derek could feel his heart beat all the way through Stiles's chest. 

The door to the training room swung open, and Stiles flinched as he heard Etta crying. 

They pulled apart, Stiles tensing in Derek's arms as he looked over. 

The scent hit Derek like a steamtrain, the pain it caused making Derek's fingers curl against Stiles's lower back as he growled loud and ferocious, his eyes flashing as his body thrummed with the shift. 

"Oh, how sweet," Kate Argent purred, Etta held in front of her, a knife against her pale throat, "the wolf's got a new chewtoy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story isn't over, don't be snarling. I'll be getting the next installment out as soon as I can.


End file.
